


Bohemian Rhapsody is Not a Documentary (But freddieismyqueen)

by LouStylesHTommo (Mymelodii)



Series: Dreamscape Vol.28 [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Avocado as plot device, Because they kinda share that really, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Fluffy Smut, Harry Styles Calls Louis Tomlinson Pet Names, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied Switching, M/M, Obnoxiously sweet, Size Kink, Top!Harry, bottom!Louis, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23644894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mymelodii/pseuds/LouStylesHTommo
Summary: A day in life of Harry Styles and his smol sunflower [quarantine edition]Aka how many wonderful adjectives can be applied to Louis Tomlinson and his everything?Oh, look. Clifford cameo!Intended as a gift to freddieismyqueen. I wouldn’t have fallen this far down the fandom rabbit hole, this quickly, without her brilliantly edited Larry Stylinson YouTube videos.THANK YOU to Nina for passing along this token of my appreciation to her!
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Dreamscape Vol.28 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740700
Comments: 4
Kudos: 100





	Bohemian Rhapsody is Not a Documentary (But freddieismyqueen)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Freddieismyqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freddieismyqueen/gifts).



Freddie Mercury was a legendary performer. Harry tries his best to emulate the encompassing glory that was 1985 Live Aid in every single one of his own performances. Postponing his concerts and staying home were not how he had imagined this month would go.

But at least he’s home.

Louis is staring wide-eyed at Rami Malek’s display of dramatics on their monstrously large TV screen. Watching one of his favorite movies again properly like this is very different from watching it on the phone with earbuds in. Harry has half a mind to get up and make some more popcorn. But he can’t find it in himself to dislodge Louis from his comfortable sprawl half on top of him. 

“That was really his first day on set?” Louis wonders aloud in unmistakable awe. Harry has a sudden urge to be singing his heart out on stage, just so Louis can look at him that way. He settles for tugging his lovely tiny person fully onto his lap. Said tiny person automatically snuggles into his embrace and Harry’s heart melts for a hundredth time, just in this past month alone.

It’s strange for Louis and him to spend long stretches of time together uninterrupted. Very good strange, but strange nonetheless.

“Apparently, they wanted to go all out on the first day to see if the movie was even worth making at all. It’s not easy to do Freddie Mercury’s justice. But this cast and crew definitely exceeded expectations. Even Brian May said so.” Harry explains, voice low to avoid distracting Louis too much from the magic happening on screen. 

But Louis is obviously distracted now, squirming restlessly on Harry’s lap. It’s possibly his fault for nosing along Louis’s hairline behind his elfin ear while talking, Harry muses. He just notices his own hand under Louis’s t-shirt, subconsciously rubbing in small circle, soft and slow, just above his belly button. So much for trying not to distract him. 

Louis is not even looking at the screen anymore. He nuzzles his face in the crook of Harry’s neck, then startles him with a harsh biting kiss right below his jawline.

“Baby, what’s gotten into you?” Harry groans, hips jerking helplessly as his precious darling nips the hollow of his collarbone viciously, a stinging love-bite blooming in its wake. Harry goes from zero to sixty in mere seconds; there’s no way Louis doesn’t feel that. But he also seems to be getting there just as fast. The way his compact body tries to burrow infinitely closer to Harry’s a dead giveaway.

“You hauled me into your octopus arms and kept touching me inappropriately. And you have the gall to ask what got me so needy?” Louis mutters peevishly. Harry can’t help but defend himself on principle, “I was just petting your tummy! Affection isn’t inappropriate.”

Louis softens considerably even as he accuses Harry of his unconscious crime, “You were thumbing my nipples before that, wanker.”

Harry’s mouth falls open as his eyes register two perky nubs as the prettiest person on earth gets up and starts stripping right in front of him. His brain is definitely turning into mush when he blurts out, “Let me suck you off. And eat you out. And kiss you all over. Please. I don’t want to leave any parts of you untouched.”

“Oh god,” Louis whimpers, hands pulling insistently at Harry’s clothes. “Off, off. Get them off. Why aren’t you already naked?”

Everything becomes a blur of rushed movement and breathless sounds. It feels like no time has passed at all before it suddenly stops in its track. 

Harry finds himself kneeling on the living room floor, his darling’s lithe figure spreading open shamelessly on the sofa. He holds one of his sunflower’s dainty feet up and presses quick playful kisses on five wriggly toes, then he nibbles on each one gently, from itty-bitty pinky to not-so-big thumb. Hearing a tiny breathy, “Oh,” he looks up just in time to see beautiful eyelashes fluttering as his little darling sighs happily. 

So from there, Harry starts a deliberate trail of heartfelt kisses to the arch of Louis’s heel, up to the triangle tattoo on his delicate ankle, further along inch-by-inch to his lean calf, to the underside of his slightly folded knee, down to his trembling thigh; occasionally sinking his teeth lightly into smooth patch of skin, sometimes right next to a beloved fading mark, to add a new vivid one. 

Once he’s satisfied with the number of scattered love-bites, Harry sits back and admires his handiwork on the priceless canvas before him for a bit. Then he proceeds onto the other delightfully-pliable leg, which has been quivering in anticipation all this time, and repeats the same affectionate treatment there, starting from five wriggly toes as well. All the while his lovely darling mewls keenly, incessantly, thrilled with the shower of doting attention. 

So thoroughly turned on, Louis flushes fetchingly from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, his pretty cock achingly hard, giving Harry an unbelievably stunning view. Harry feels intoxicated with utter adoration for his golden sunshine.

“Look at you. So eager for me. So hard you’re already leaking. Can’t wait to get every drop sucked out, can you? Bet you wanna come so many times it hurts. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Louis doesn’t even try to turn his earnest moan into a witty retort. Not even when Harry’s glistened lips curve up into an awfully smug smile. 

“Good thing you’re so lovely. I can’t deny you a single thing,” Harry rumbles, voice dripping with gratification. He proceeds to swallow down his darling’s marvelous cock all the way in one go, clasping his large hands onto Louis’s inner thighs to prevent them from accidentally suffocating Harry.

Louis wails. Harry spares a fleeting thought of gratitude for the complete absence of neighbors within hearing range. His dearest darling keeps whining loudly. Likely intentional. He knows exactly how his sex noises obliterate Harry’s self-control.

“Hazza, Hazza, Hazza,” Louis chants, definitely trying to rile him up. It works beautifully. Harry is doubling down his effort, determined to have his sweet darling come down his throat. 

Louis’s nimble hand weaves through Harry’s curls in appreciation, only tugging sharply once when Harry taps a dry finger-pad lightly on his furled-tight hole. Harry makes sure his finger is spit-slick before playing different rhythms on Louis’s hole again, until it twitches when touched and winks back at him when left wanting.

(Meanwhile, after yanking on Harry’s hair as a warning, Louis grabs a tube of lube that they always have stashed behind the sofa cushion, noticing that it’s unopened and not even of their usual watermelon-flavored varieties. 

For some godforsaken reasons, it’s ‘Organic Extra Virgin Avocado Oil,’ and Louis almost throws it at Harry’s bobbing head. Almost. 

He really doesn’t want Harry’s kisses to taste like avocado when he finally fucks Louis with his big thick cock. Which means Louis can’t have him putting his mouth where this organic oil goes. Louis hates having to choose which of Harry’s body parts get to go inside him. Harry has been spoiling him with all of them for far too long.)

Decidedly petulantly, Louis demands, “Finger me now since you’re not eating me out.” 

Harry stares at Louis, incredulous, mouth popping off because he just has to response, “In case you didn’t notice, my mouth was rather preoccupied with your cock. I don’t have another mouth to eat you out with at the same time, Lou.” 

(It seems Louis’s message had completely missed its mark. But that’s fine. More than fine, actually. Louis knows how to roll with this. Louis can definitely roll with this.)

Harry has a feeling he just walked right into a trap as soon as Louis’s naughtiest smirk appears, “Then maybe you should consider getting someone else to help you out.” 

Harry growls as jealousy crashes through his vein. Louis is joking, he knows. But knowing doesn’t stop his heart from threatening to tear itself to shreds at the thought of someone else having Louis this way. He stands abruptly, stepping away from the sofa. 

Louis’s hands shoot out to grab his arm, shock written across his pretty face. A desperate plea instantly follows, “Wait, Hazza. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t mean that. I don’t mean that at all. Please. You have to know that.” 

Louis’s eyes well up with tears, and Harry’s resolve to get the upper hand at Louis’s own game crumbles like quicksand. Even though he can easily tell Louis’s crocodile tears apart from the genuinely distressed ones, he’s still helpless against all of them just the same.

“I know you don’t mean it, sweetheart,” Harry sighs, slipping into a role Louis sought. It’s ridiculous how easy he is for his boy, “I know you only said it because you want me to punish you. You want a good spanking and a hard, brutal, fuck.” 

Louis nods eagerly, eyes sparkling. Harry knows he thinks he’s getting his way. Well, he’s not wrong. But he’s not completely right either. “You want me to treat you rough. But, instead of asking nicely, you resorted to acting like a brat,” Harry manages to hide his smile, sensing gears turning inside Louis’s head. 

Blue eyes widen as he gets it in no time at all, “You’re giving me a different punishment?” Louis asks, voice small, “But I really want you to fuck me, please, daddy, please.” 

His darling is so clever, wheedling and begging with teary eyes once again. Harry always gives in, he himself knows it. Louis knows it. He’s exploiting it to the best of his ability. But he didn’t actually say no to a different punishment. So, “Oh, I’m definitely fucking you, sweetheart. Just not how you expected.” 

Harry gathers his petite angel up off the sofa into his arms bridal-style, gives him a pointed look to silence any forthcoming protests. Surprisingly, Louis just meekly puts his arms around Harry’s shoulders and lets himself be carried to the bedroom.

(If Louis’s hiding a victorious smile, and making a mental note to demote the offending tube of oil from their living room to the deepest recess of their kitchen cabinet, a pair of sparrows is his only witness. And tattoos aren’t telltales. 

Even if Harry later suspects that this dodgy lube disappearance is Louis’s fault somehow, Louis will be more than happy to have Harry fuck the confession out of him. He plans to tell Harry the truth, anyway, lest he makes more ill-advised purchases. 

But where’s the fun in doing just that? Especially when there’s a possibility of daddy tying him up and making him talk, punishing him for being such a naughty little boy. 

Lou can’t tell how daddy’s gonna punish him today, but daddy called him sweetheart and promised to fuck him, so it can’t be that bad. It’s the worst if daddy calls him a slut. Lou only ever got those twice. Both times ‘cause he misbehaved so so so bad, barely avoided seriously hurting himself, and made daddy so so so worried. 

Both those punishments had daddy fucked Lou like a disposable one night stand. Never gave Lou kisses. Never said he loved Lou. Left as soon as he finished. Lou cried himself to sleep on both those nights. 

First, on the bathroom floor, ‘cause Lou broke down completely at seeing the used condom in the trash bin. Second, on a piano bench, ‘cause that where Lou could be emotionally vulnerable without being entirely useless, wearing a small plug so Lou could keep daddy’s trace inside him just a little while longer. 

Both those times, Lou woke up in a proper bed, his body wiped clean of all stickiness, full English breakfast waiting on the bedside table. When daddy walked in with a warm cuppa, Lou just bursted into fat ugly tears and nonsensical blabber. 

Then daddy ignored everything but Lou, climbing into bed with Lou, holding Lou oh so close, whispering soothing promise that he loves Lou very much still, repeating it over and over again. To this day, Lou still asks all of his wishing stars to never ever let Lou misbehave that horribly ever again, ever.)

Harry has recognized Louis’s glazed-over eyes since before he settles his unusually docile angel on their bed. He’s been stroking his hand through Louis’s soft hair, peppering kisses on his smooth forehead and cheekbones, when lucid awareness starts swimming back into his angel’s blue eyes. So he gives Louis a single bruising kiss as a welcome back gift. 

Plaintive little noises fall from Louis’s shiny red lips when Harry pulls away. Seeing how the last fog of confusion has yet to fully lift off slowly blinking eyes, Harry shushes his waking sunflower gently and gives him a clear verbal assurance, “I’m just gonna get Clifford out of the room, sweetheart. He’s napping in his corner. I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

Harry waits for his angel’s murmured acquiescence before getting up. 

Louis takes a few more seconds to successfully touch down to grounded reality. He sits up a little, stretches his limbs about, glances at his favorite person. Louis does a double take at how carefully Harry is pulling their dog’s bed toward the door. 

Clifford doesn’t even stir once. The gentle rise and fall of his sleeping body stay peaceful. Louis is amazed that Clifford continues to slumber, wholly ignorant of how he has already travelled on top of his doggy bed, all the way from his usual spot to outside the bedroom. 

When Harry closes the door and locks it for good measure, Louis is suddenly reminded that this indescribably wonderful man had already promised him forever and has been steadfastly keeping that promise ever since.

“Hazza, come back to bed and make love to me,” Louis requests softly, not really in the mood to play anymore. Harry gives him the sweetest smile. Louis wants to see those dimples everyday for the rest of his life. The sheer fact that he gets to is leaving him breathless.

Harry’s next kisses are incredibly tender and full of reverent adoration. Louis feels so cherished he could cry. He actually starts crying a little, after Harry flips him over onto his stomach and eats him out for what feels like hours. 

Louis sobs harshly into the pillow he’s desperately clutching when Harry doesn’t stop rimming around his sopping wet hole, even with three lubed-up fingers pressing deep inside Louis, massaging his prostate persistently. 

Louis has already come twice before Harry coaxes him to lie down on his back again. This time his four slick fingers fuck right in all at once. Louis keens brokenly and tearfully begs for Harry’s cock instead, “Please, please, please. Haz, please.” Harry soothes him with a soft stroke on his lower belly and a whispered promise, “Soon, darling. I’ll give it to you soon.” 

Then he takes Louis’s oversensitive-yet-hard-again cock into his mouth, pushes his fingertips right up against Louis’s prostate, and presses his palm down hard on the lowest part of Louis’s belly. 

Louis yowls, spine arching completely off the mattress, heels digging forcefully into Harry’s back. Harry doesn’t let up, intent on drawing out Louis’s climax for as long as physically possible. He keeps deep-throating Louis’s cock and milks his prostate relentlessly, swallowing every little spurt of come his darling has left to offer. 

Louis shrieks incoherently, tears streaming down his face in rivulets. Harry only stops when Louis’s babbling bawl abruptly makes sense to him, “can’t, can’t, no more, please, can’t, too much, Haz, can’t, please” 

His feeble hands must have been pushing Harry away weakly for at least a little while now, Harry realizes, heart plummeting. He scrambles back to give Louis some space. Frantic thoughts run through his mind. Was Louis so far gone that he forgot their safe word? Did Harry miss him saying it? Fuck.

“Baby, did you need to use our safe word?”

Louis weeps uncontrollably, his small body curls in on itself, shivering all over. But he still shakes his head in denial. Harry feels almost lightheaded from relief. 

“What’s your color then, baby? Red, Yellow, Green?”

It’s probably Yellow. Their safe word is essentially an equivalent of Red. There’s no way in hell this is Green. Harry still needs to hear the confirmation from Louis to be absolutely certain, though. 

Louis is still crying but he doesn’t look like he’s going to shake out of his own skin anymore. Harry wants to hug him so bad but Louis probably doesn’t want him too close at the moment. So he sits on his own hands to prevent himself from reaching out and touching Louis without permission, and he waits. 

Eventually, the worst of it seems to have passed as Louis sniffles and gives Harry a watery vulnerable little smile and, finally, an answer.

“Is Orange available?”   
“Ha!” 

Harry’s ridiculous bark of a laugh has already escaped, way ahead of his conscious thoughts, when he jerks his hands up and slaps them both over his mouth. But the silly gesture is very much worth it when Louis grins back at him impishly, tears drying at last.

“What do you need, baby?” Harry asks softly, cradling Louis’s hands in between his own when his lovely tiny person reaches for him.

“I...,” Louis trails off, looking unsure. Harry gives him a reassuring smile, thumb tenderly tracing over their rope tattoo on Louis’s wrist. A gentle reminder of their shared promise to be each other’s anchor through it all. Be it big or small, easy or difficult, stupid stunts or heartbreaking insecurities. Everything, really. 

“I still.. um..,” Louis mumbles so quietly that Harry can’t hear enough to understand him. 

“I didn’t quite get that. Can you speak a little bit louder, baby?”

“I still want you inside me. But I can’t stand much more friction, or coming again so soon. Can you not move and just let me clench around your cock?” Louis blushes scarlet as he spells out his desire. 

Harry grunts involuntarily. His painfully hard cock jumps to attention. The sensation of pre-cum sliding down his own length is no longer neglectable. There’s no denying he’s really, genuinely, craving the feeling of Louis’s pulsating heat surrounding him. 

But, Harry lets out a guttural moan as Louis suddenly wraps both his small hands around Harry’s cock and pumps it slowly. Thoughts flew out the window, Harry can only focus on not coming right this second. 

It’s difficult enough when it’s just Louis’s dexterous hands working in tandem around Harry’s full girth. But his sweet, sweet creature has to also bend down and give his cock a series of open-mouth kisses, interspersing with kitten licks around the head, occasionally dipping the tip of his tongue lightly into the slit, tasting Harry’s pre-cum right off the source. 

He gazes up from under his luxuriant eyelashes to check Harry’s reaction periodically. Harry is so close to coming when Louis stops his ministrations all of a sudden. 

His cheeky little darling moves to straddle Harry and gives him an ardent kiss. Harry can taste himself on Louis’s tongue and, still, an elusive hint of his strawberry chapstick. He chases after Louis’s exquisite lips for one more kiss after another, repeatedly, until Louis is giggling into the intimate sliver of space between their faces. 

Harry nudges his nose against Louis’s in an Eskimo’s kiss, asking softly, “What’s funny, baby?” 

Louis twinkling blue eyes are full of mirth and stars, “Haz, you can’t just keep ignoring your cock like this. It’s so hard it has to hurt. Don’t you wanna come? If you promise not to move much, I’ll sit on your cock and you can come inside me, yeah?” 

Harry must’ve done something real good in the past life to have such an immensely beautiful creature love him in this one. Or maybe it has always been this way, their souls intertwined through space and time and history. 

Harry takes care of Louis the very best way he knows how. Louis notices that Harry needs taken care of, too, and readily does it right back. Or maybe Louis takes care of Harry first. Either way, Harry is tremendously grateful for his gorgeous personal sunshine.

“Haz?” 

Harry nods hastily at Louis’s slightly concerned lilt. He moves to grab the lube bottle laid discarded on the bedsheet. But Louis intercepts his reaching palm and guides it toward his glorious bums instead, voice purring syrupy invitation.

“No need for that, my love. Feel. I’m still so wet inside. So open for you. Want your cock, Haz. Wanna feel it so big inside. Wanna be stuffed full. Wanna feel your come trickle down my legs after.” 

Harry moans uselessly as his fingers test the easy give of Louis’s entrance. 

He rearranges his limbs quickly as per Louis’s instruction. Soon, he’s sitting up cross-legged with Louis pliant in his lap, loving arms circled loosely around Harry’s neck, supple thighs bracketed his waist, delicate ankles crossed behind his back. 

It takes everything in Harry not to thrust up and just hold Louis close. Louis, whose hips only undulate in accidental minuscule motion. Louis, whose scorching inner wall rhythmically clenches and unclenches in rolling waves around Harry’s cock buried deep inside him. Louis, whose searing internal spasms clamp down tight on Harry’s hard length sporadically. 

Louis, whose sweet little noises slip through between bouts of fervent kisses. 

Louis, who is quite possibly trying to talk Harry into an orgasm.

“So good.. so full.. Haz.. love you.. love your cock.. so hot.. in so deep.. so huge.. didn’t think it’d fit.. our first time..” 

Harry almost chokes on air. Suddenly, vividly, reminded of how it actually didn’t fit the first time around. How they gleefully bought a colorful set of increasingly larger butt plugs together, as training wheels. How Louis struggled to take in even the smallest flamingo pink one at the beginning of their sexual liaison. 

How they both giggled hysterically through embarrassment when Paul vaguely mentioned that he checked every incoming package for potential hazard. How things escalated so quickly that there’s an old 1D interview, wherein everyone and their grandmothers agreed that Harry was definitely sitting on a butt plug under his clothes. 

How fittingly a coincidence it was that Harry could take Louis’s cock after the royal blue butt plug. How they only needed to work up to the lime green one, not the gaudiest yellow monstrosity, for Louis’s body to finally yield and flutter hotly down Harry’s cock like a dream. 

With Louis in his memory, taking his cock for the first time, and Louis in his arms, keening about how he wishes Harry could get him pregnant, so they’d have a small army of adorable babies with curly hair toddling ‘round the house, “Won’t I look pretty, belly rounded with your son or daughter?” 

Harry comes so hard his vision momentarily whites out and static fills his ears. 

Louis mewls in kittenish satisfaction, hips finally rolling to give Harry’s throbbing cock a bit more friction to keep his orgasmic high going a little while longer. Even as his abused prostate sends a zing of confused pain/pleasure up his spine. 

It’s typical, really, that Louis would do just about anything for his green-eyed boy. Whether that means dialing his dirty talks up a notch to indulge Harry’s sweetly domestic fantasy, and his impossibly intense pregnant!Louis kink. Or, as equally often and valid, rewatching Freddie Mercury’s performance with the Royal Ballet on 7th October 1979 together again for the millionth time.

**Author's Note:**

> 💙💚 Thank you for reading! Please leave me a comment or poke a Kudo if you like it! 
> 
> \- Mymelodii 💕🏡


End file.
